


Touch starved - Tomarry

by ReisCopper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Dom/sub, Drug Use, Dubcon Cuddling, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Gangs, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Smut, Stripper Harry, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReisCopper/pseuds/ReisCopper
Summary: Harry Potter is a college student who can barely afford his rent. Living with 5 other people isn't all too easy either.His choice of employment isn't all too cheery either. A stripper wasn't quite what he was looking towards being growing up, but neither was most of his situation.Harry's life is a cycle until one day when an insanely rich man by the name of Tom Riddle won't stop eyeing him, and it gets weirder when he starts seeing him more and more often. . . .Tom Riddle is one of the most powerful men in the country. Being a vampire, and a mafia boss, you would assume he had everything he would ever want.Except he doesn't.No matter how hard he tries, he can't find his dear soulmate for the life of him.Until that fateful day.
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter
Comments: 65
Kudos: 444





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for the whole series:
> 
> -Smut.   
> -Mild warnings for suicidal thoughts.   
> -Strippers/sugar babies/exotic dancers, ETC.   
> -Kidnapping.  
> -Bondage relationships.(Not related to that past point dear god-)  
> -Oh yeah and it's LGBTQ+
> 
> Alright, warnings are done. 
> 
> Enjoy! (AvistisLights, shield your eyes if you decide to read this lol.)

A thump ran through the small apartment as a skinny looking boy entered the house. He dropped his small back pack, sighing. Harry squeezed his green eyes shut, flopping onto the stingy and mucky smelling couch that him and his roommates had bought from the crackhead that used to live two doors down from them when he had gotten kicked out. 

Still reeked of piss, if you asked him. 

He let his face stay in the ribbed, brown fabric. He was too tired to bother at the moment. 

"Harry," he heard his roommate whine, "don't fall asleep."

"Why? I have an hour. . . ," he muffled into the couch. 

"You might not be able to get up," Neville said, "we've got to go out in an hour. Come on, let's get ready."

"Fine," he sat up, neck hurting from being hunched over textbooks all day. 

Neville smiled sheepishly. Harry stood up, sneakers clicking lightly as he didn't take them off earlier when he had come through the door. Ron came in, frowning when he saw that he was wearing his shoes in the house. 

"Seriously, Harry?" Ron shunned. 

"Get off my ass," Harry waved his friend off. 

He walked to his and Neville's bedroom, opening the door and going to the dresser. 

He called out to Ron, "You watching for us tonight?" 

"Yeah," Ron called back as Harry kicked off his sneakers, "Dean and Seamus are out."

"On a date!" Neville ran out behind him, hugging him by the waist. Harry flinched from surprise. He grabbed a corset from his dresser, "Ooh! Can I borrow this?" 

"Sure," Harry said as he stared down at his. 

Neville got to stripping down slightly, slipping on a pair of tights after getting a pair of speedos onto himself. 

Harry sighed, "Red with the bows, or black with the roses?" 

"Have you worn that white baby doll yet?" He asked. 

Harry went a shade red, "No, not yet." 

"You know they love it when you wear cute girly shit," Neville pointed out, "we might get more if you do."

Harry blushed, looking down. Usually, the most that Neville and Harry would do was dance, maybe have a few drinks with some of the men or women that attended the club they worked for, but that was it. They didn't make as much as the other people there did. They couldn't quite get it in their heads to give up their bodies the same way that their co-workers could, no mater how much revenue it would generate for the household.

Ron was already ready, thumping down onto the piss smelling couch. He pulled out the remote and pressed one of the buttons. 

Harry could hear the news going, but elected to ignore it.

"I. . . I think I'll wear the one with the roses," he said, quietly grabbing it. 

Neville tossed him a pair of tights, which he slipped on before he slid on the bodysuit. Thankfully, the ones they owned were all made for men, so they were quite comfortable. Harry grabbed a set of his black heels, sliding them onto his smaller feet. They propped him up, so he looked taller. 

He was already fucking cold. He grabbed his coat, putting it on. It fell to mid thigh. 

"Shit," Neville cursed as he paired the black corset he had gotten from Harry with his own body suit. 

It wasn't easy being in his line of work. They were out a lot, especially at night, and their income depended on how much people were willing to throw at them. 

It was enough, though. They were barely scraping by, then Ron's younger sister had fallen ill, and Harry and Dean had started to go to school. The money definately helped a whole lot. 

Harry turned towards his limited supply of makeup. He spritzed some of the body spray onto his neck, then grabbed some of his lipgloss. 

"Finally," Neville said when he got himself into the body suit. 

Ron asked from the living room, "What do you want to eat?"

"Just some soup, like always," Harry said, "thanks!" 

Ginny quietly knocked on their door. The young, 15 year old girl saw the two boys getting ready. 

She coughed, "Are you guys getting ready to go?" 

"Yeah, Ginny," Neville said, "but we'll be back super soon, okay?" 

"Okay, just be careful," she nodded. 

Harry smiled sadly at her. It was hard living in a small apartment with six people, although they had a feeling it would be seven if Luna moved in. 

Ron's parents had died quite a while ago. Bill didn't want anything to do with his family after he had married a rich, french model and became an actor. Charlie was pretty heavily onto drugs, and Percy was a politician. His other two siblings were running a business, and didn't have the time or effort to help Ron take care of his little sister, who was nearly dying. He couldn't even get in contact with them. 

"Aren't we always?" Harry said. 

Neville nodded and began to brush his hair a little. 

"Think we should leave in twenty," Harry suggested. 

Ginny sat down on Harry's couch, kicking her feet and looking around. 

"Should I go with the boots, or the flats?" Neville asked. 

"Flats," Ginny chimed in. 

"Yeah," Harry agreed. 

Ginny frowned, clutching her notebook close to her chest, "Um, Harry?" 

"Yeah?" He looked at her. 

"Are you good at math?" She tucked some of her fire red hair behind her ear. 

"Uh, I'm capable," he said, "what's up?" 

"Trigonometry. . . ," she answered. 

"Ah," he said, "it's a little confusing. . . , but I'll still try."

"Thanks," she said, showing him her work sheets. 

Neville and Harry got right to trying to help the minor do her math homework. Ron knocked on the door, then pushed it open slightly, "Hey you guys. What's up?" 

"Math," Neville replied. 

"You didn't ask me?" Ron asked, doing an over exaggerated pout. 

Ginny smiled weakly at her brother, "We both know you failed math."

Ron laughed at his sister's attitude, walking over to her. He bent down and kissed her forehead, rubbing her back. Harry smiled, "We'll help you when you get back, okay?" 

"Okay," she said. 

"You should get some sleep," Neville suggested. 

Ron hummed in agreement. Ginny nodded, standing up. She clutched her notebook and wandered over to the door. She left to go to her and Ron's room. Harry yawned, grabbing a half drunken bottle of Pepsi from his dresser. He sat down.

Ron looked at the two, "You guys look great tonight."

Neville blushed, "Thanks!" 

Harry cracked open the lid, drinking some of the semi flat liquid. He just needed some damn caffeine. He still needed to get home by 10, get an assignment done and read 2 chapters from his textbook. 

He sighed. 

Why was he even bothering with university? His uncle Peter was right. The only thing he was good for was being a nuisance. 

He wasn't smart like his peers. 

Neville handed him his soup, which he smiled and took. It was just some Lipton chicken middle soup, his favourite, honestly. He was just glad that it was semi cheep and easy to make. 

He went to chowing down on the noodles. 

Neville joined in, sitting at the desk which sat on the other side of their creaky metal bunk bed. He leaned backwards in the wooden chair. 

"Come on, let's hurry up," Ron said, "you've already been late twice this week and it's not even Friday!"

"Right, right," Harry gulped down the broth, then stood up with the empty bowl. 

His heels clicked on the ground as he made his way over to the kitchen table. He sat it down, "Alright, let's get going, shall we?"

* * *

Tom sat back in his seat, eyeing the man who he had come to meet. He was quite handsome, a little bit of a twink too. However, he could tell by the markings on his collarbone that he had already been spoken for, and by a werewolf no less. 

He grinned at him, "So, big bad Mr. Riddle, what gives?" 

The man's grey eyes bit into his nonexistent soul. Tom sighed, "You don't waste any time, do you, Mr. Black?" 

Tom poured a drink of fire whiskey for each of them, sitting back in the leather arm chair. 

"Not quite," he replied, taking his glass and taking a sip. 

Tom tilted his head, "I believe that we have a bit of an issue. You see, the west side of the city has a small gang of drug dealers."

"Do tell," he sat forwards. 

"Their leader, Charlie? He claimed not to be afraid of us," Tom shrugged, "now, normally I'd simply deal with it myself. However, this man is Charlie Weasley."

Sirius Black sighed, "Of course. Under our little agreement, correct?" 

"Indeed. You specified that the parents asked your leader, Mr. Potter, I believe? That not a single ginger hair be hurt on their children's heads," Tom shrugged, "so what am I to do?" The boy won't listen. I even offered to bring him to rehabilitation, along with his goons."

"I see, well," Sirius said, "thank you for clearing it up with us first. Seems we may be getting some new members. . . ."

Sirius finished his glass by swigging it back. He slammed it down on the glass coffee table. Tom sat his almost empty one down. 

"Oh, yeah, one more thing. James wanted me to ask you about how your search has been going," he asked. 

Tom shrugged, "Can't find a single trace of Pettigrew, or the child."

"I suppose he wouldn't quite be a child anymore," Sirius sighed, "thank you for having me, Mr. Riddle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe that my husband will be quite upset if I return late from our meeting."

"Why so?" Tom asked. 

"We are at a strip club," he shrugged, "Remus is awfully protective."

"He is simply assuming his role as your protector," Tom smiled, "we do tend to want to rip out the necks of those we feel threatened by."

"Speaking of which," Sirius asked, "how's your search going?" 

Tom sighed. Sirius was talking about his soulmate, someone he hadn't found yet, which was greatly upsetting and had caused quite a lot of broken vases and one night stands. 

"I cannot find them. I know they're close, sometimes I'll catch a whiff of their scent," his eyes flashed red as he remembered his mates sweet smell, "I thought at first, that they may be avoiding me. . . however, I found that their scent is only human."

"I see," Sirius grinned, "lucky you. I heard that vampires with human soulmates tend to become quite powerful upon drinking from them periodically."

"Well, it is rather difficult in the fact that humans," he added, "and I apologize for knocking your species, Mr. Black, do not feel the connection we do."

"I understand that," he grinned, "didn't know what was going on with Remus until he pounced on me one night. Well, I must get going."

"Good talk," Tom said. 

"Thanks for letting me know about the Weasley boy," he said, "I'll be in touch."

He closed the door behind him. Tom sighed, sitting back down. His mate. 

He slipped on his firewhiskey, eyes burning into the wall. He heard a knock only moments later. Tom sighed as if he was an angry teenager being asked to do his chores rather than a 27 year old billionaire getting his mood ruined by being asked to answer the door. 

Tom called, "Come in."

The owner of the bar entered, grinning, "Mr. Riddle? I see your friend has left, and I brought you some company. Would you accept?' 

Tom looked the two woman up and down. Humans. He did find their outfits rather apatizing, lining their curves and showing smooth skin underneath. He tilted his head, grinning. 

"I prefer to watch dancing," he stood up, looking the girls up and down, "perhaps all of your workers can put on a special show for me?" 

He grabbed his wallet, pulling out a stack of 50 dollar bills and handing it to the owner. His blue eyes were wide. 

He whispered, "Oh, and don't be stingy with the twinks. They're my favourite."

"Right away, sir!" He motioned for the girls to do as he said, and they slinked on by him. 

Tom followed him out, sighing and watching the man tell all of the girls and boys to go up and dance. His right hand man and his right hand woman followed him. 

"Putting on a show?" Bellatrix asked. 

Lucius covered his eyes, "I'm not looking. Bellatrix, please tell Cissy that I had nothing to do with this."

He sat down at the front, the two sitting down on either side of them. He was brought another bottle of firewhiskey by the bartender, who poured them all a glass. 

Tom sniffed. 

"What's that smell?" Tom asked the bartender. 

"Uh," he smelled, "I don't know. It may be some perfume one of the girls is wearing."

He smelled some more, waving him off. 

Tom closed his eyes, listening to the clicking of heels and the sound of music playing. He inhaled again. 

"It's him," he said, "my mate. He's here."

Tom opened his eyes as Bellatrix said, "Really? Who!" 

He growled lowly, realizing the scent was diluted by another. Perfume. Shit. 

"He's wearing a fuck ton of perfume or some shit," he said, "damn it."

Toms nose lead him to where he generally was, however, and he was floored when he realized that it was one of the dozen or so dancers on the stage. 

The club exploded in cheering. 

Tom watched them as they all started to dance. He tried to find one who he seemed to like the most. Perhaps if he can get them all separated, then he could tell? He could simply ask the boys to all sleep with him tonight. When he finds him, then he'll know. 

His eyes found that he rather liked one of the boys who was dawned in a black bodysuit with red roses the colour of blood on them. He was taking it slow, hips moving in a taunting way. 

Him first, he decided. He decided to be generous and throw out some money for the people dancing. 

"Who do you think, sir?" Lucius asked. 

"The one wearing the lingerie with the roses," he answered. 

Lucius glanced at him, then looked back to his drink, "Noted. Shall I tell the owner that you've. . . taken an interest?" 

"If you would," he grinned up at the boy who had silky, raven black hair. 

Theirs eyes met. Tom sipped his whiskey as he smirked at the boy. He does have pretty eyes, doesn't he? 

He looked away. 

Toms eyes still skimmed the dozen others dancing. He looked down the bodies of a few, but his suspicions were confirmed. He didn't quite like them as much as the little one with a nice ass. 

The music stopped, and they scurried off of the stage. Men tucked money into the dancers panties and boots as they walked by, some trying to cup a feel. 

The bouncers kept the prying hands away. 

"Mr. Riddle?" The owner said. 

"Yes?" He replied, finishing his drink. 

"About the one you requested," he said, "he doesn't quite do private sessions."

Tom glared at him, "Really?" 

"U-uh-"

Tom opened his wallet, showing him some more money, "How about you go see if he's willing to give me a lap dance, hm? Does he do those?" 

"He does," he reached for the money, but Tom pulled it away. 

"Then tell him to meet me in the back room, hm?" He stood up, walking to the back room.

Lucius smirked, "He seems quite scummy."

"Wouldn't trust him," Bellatrix singed out. 

Tom sighed, returning to the quieter back room where he had been speaking with Sirius Black, James Potter's right hand man. He rubbed his eyebrows. 

A small knock was on the door, and Lucius answered. 

The boy who had been dancing earlier was standing there. Tom sat up, "Let him in."

Lucius let him in, smiling kindly at him. He nervously stood in the middle of the room, looking at the three of them. 

Tom smelled. 

He was the one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should probably announce that this is written on mobile! I also updated some tags.

Tom grinned up at the boy in front of him, who tucked some of his hair behind an ear. Two very cute eyes looked around the room with unease. 

"What is your name, love?" He asked. 

"It's. . . Harry," he said. 

"Interesting," he motioned for him to come closer. 

Harry did as so. Tom internally smirked at his obedience, liking it. 

"If you would please take a seat," he said. 

Harry looked like he was debating something until he finally asked, "Where would you like me to sit, sir?"

Tom chuckled lowly at the boy, "A silly question, don't you think?" 

Harry blushed, "Well, you did ask for a lap dance. . . ."

"Ah. I suppose that's fair," he smiled, "then if you'd like to begin. . . ."

"Of course," the boy grabbed him by the shoulders, straddling him. 

Tom smirked as they went eye to eye, Harry's hands holding his shoulder and chest as a way to prop himself up. Toms spine lit up with lightning, excited that he had his mate sitting on his lap. Sparks seemed to be flying off of Harry's fingertips, and it didn't quite take long for him to start to imagine what Tom would do to him if they didn't have any cloth barriers to block their love making. 

"How long do you want me to go?" He asked. 

"How long are you going to be here?" Tom replied. 

Harry blushed, eyes still locked within his. Tom cupped his smooth cheek, keeping his gaze within his. 

"I. . . I'm going to be here for another two or three hours," he replied. 

"Hmm, $30 for every fifteen minutes, correct?" Harry nodded, "then I'll be keeping you for three hours."

Harry giggled a little, but Tom could tell that it was forced, "That was a good joke, you're so funny."

Tom deadpanned at his mate. Harry's smile fell. 

"You're being serious," he said. 

Harry looked shocked. Tom simply smirked, grabbing his hips and using his hands to get the timid boy started. 

Harry's hips rotated slowly. Tom smirked at him, delight spreading through his body. He stopped moving Harry's hips, fingers simply resting on them.

Lucius motioned for his attention.

Tom glared at him, pulling Harry's head to rest on the crook of his neck so he didn't see his glare. 

Lucius stuck a thumb up, and then moved it down. He raised an eyebrow. 

He gave him a thumbs up. 

Lucius grinned. 

Harry raised his head, "Um, I'm sorry. . . but can one of you guys tell my friend that I'll be in here all day?" 

"Lucius, go," he said. 

"His name is Neville," he added, looking back at him, "thank you."

Tom turned his face back towards him gently, "Look at me."

Harry nodded. He kept going, slowly going harder. Tom felt himself excited at the idea of the boy tiring himself out before he was aloud to leave. He liked the idea of Harry trying to impress him. 

It was cute. 

Harry's eyes didn't leave his. Tom didn't notice that he was etching closer to Harry's lips. He wanted to bring him home with him tonight, but he needed to wait for the right opportunity. Besides, he hated to admit it, but unless he was willing to give the boy Stockholm syndrome, then he wanted to try and get him to love him before bringing him into his life. 

"You're very pretty," Tom rubbed circles into his waist. 

Harry blushed, smiling, "And you're very handsome."

Tom brushed some of the hair out of his eyes, "Are kisses aloud?" 

"I. . . I would rather you not," he muttered. 

"That's alright, love," he said, "no rush."

Harry nodded, resting his head on his shoulder. God, his smell was quite tantalizing. He wished he could just flip him over and drink from him until he was weak so he could fuck him without resistance. Oh, one day, he would claim him. 

Harry ran his fingers down his chest, slipping his fingers under the hem of his shirt, touching his abs. Harry thought, god, he was quite strong. 

Tom smirked. He had to stop himself from grabbing at him. 

Harry looked up at him, eyes shining. 

Tom felt his body shiver with delight. He tilted his head, looking at his mate. He was going a little crazy, wasn't he? Here he was, sitting on his lap and giving him his attention. His attention belonged to him, and only him. 

He had only known of his name for a half an hour, yet here he was. He was as possessive as a dog. Did it matter? Tom eyes Harry. The younger looks uneasy under his gaze, and let's his eyes fall. 

He didn't know how to feel about that. Does he like it that Harry can't meet his gaze, or does he hate it? He may live for hardcore domination, but his love still mattered to him. 

The boy kept his gaze lowered, so Tom forced his attention back towards him. 

"Look at me," he demanded.

Harry obeyed quietly, hips still rotating and fingers roaming his body. Tom simply sat back and enjoyed his body.

* * *

Harry ran a finger through his hair, distressed. 650 fucking dollars from that guy? Sure, he was on his lap for three hours, but he kept convincing him to take breaks, and had bought him non alcoholic drinks. 

Harry simply tucked the majority of it into his pocket, sighing. He approached his manager, giving him his cut of the pay without the tips, that being 35% of the pay that was mandatory.

Harry glanced back at the silver haired man who was escorting him to Ron's car. Harry gave him a quiet smile. 

"You don't have to, I'm perfectly capable of myself," Harry said, wrapping his jacket around him closer before exiting out the staff door.

"No, I insist," he said. 

Harry looked to the car where Ron was standing. He was leaning against their beat up and rickety blue (if you ignore the silver door in the back, he supposed) car. 

"Hey, Harry!" Ron waved him over. 

He turned to the man, Lucius, he thinks, "See? My friends are right there. You can go enjoy yourself now."

Lucius frowned, "I'm married."

"So are half of the men getting blow jobs in there," Harry muttered, sauntering away, "see ya whenever."

He sighed when Neville pulled him into a hug. Ron rubbed his back brotherly. 

"He's staring at you," Ron said quietly. 

"Can we please just go home?" Harry melted further into his friends embrace, "I'm so tired. That fucker had me for three hours. Three hours! He kept giving me breaks, though."

"He didn't try anything, did he?" Ron asked. 

"He asked if kissing was aloud," Harry said, "he listened when I told him no."

Neville sighed, "That fucking dick, Jared? He fucking tried to pull down my bodysuit. The bouncer threw him out again."

"Christ," Harry muttered as he got in the back seat. Neville joined him despite the passengers side being open. 

"Where to, miss Daisy?" Ron teased as he got in the front seat. 

Neville rolled his eyes, "Home, please."

"Dear god, yes," Harry buckled up and laid his head on the glass, "you think I'm going to be able to get some work done?" 

"Not if you don't pass out first," Neville sighed. 

Harry groaned, "I'm going to take a damn nap."

Neville sighed, sitting back in his seat, "I'm changing into night clothes the moment I can. These tights are uncomfortable."

Harry kicked off his black heels, sighing, "Preach."

Ron smiled at his friends. 

"He gave me 650 fucking dollars."

"Holy shit," Ron said, "really?" 

Harry nodded quietly, "He kept giving me this odd look. Like. . . like he was thinking of something the whole time. He barely looked turned on other than that fucking smirk. . . ."

"Maybe you should just blacklist him," Neville suggested, "that's really sus."

"But he gave me 650 fucking dollars. I gave the share to the owner, but Jesus Christ," Harry ran a hand through his hair, "that much?"

Neville sighed, "True. . . you do have to pay for college somehow. . . ."

Harry frowned, eyes looking out of the window. They slowly felt heavy, eyes closing. The man's touch was still sending sparks all over his body, making him shiver. 

Harry let himself simply succumb to the darkness. A nap would let him get some work done, right?

* * *

Tom laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He smiled to himself, sighing. His mate. He knew exactly where he worked, now all he had to do was track him, try and get close to him, meet him a few more times until eventually, he could ask him for a date and go from there. 

Well, assuming all things go to plan. 

Tom frowned. A human. 

It was complicating things. Humans don't feel a pull like Vampires or Veela's do, and their relationships tend to be much more complicated. Because humans are weak, fragile creatures, they always get hurt, and cannot support a supernatural child. Miscarriages are more common. 

Tom sighed. 

He was getting ahead of himself. Harry would love him eventually, whether he does it on his own free will or not. 

Harry. 

He should have asked more details. It was odd, seeing as that was the same name of James Potter's son. Who was he kidding, though? When Pettigrew double crossed them all, he killed Lily Potter and dumped her into a river. They just didn't find the babies body was all. 

Harry. 

He sat up, deciding to do some digging. He didn't have a last name to go on, but he did know where he worked. 

A grin spread across his face. Being the leader of one of the most powerful gangs in Britain did have its perks, and being on good terms with the leaders of the other side of the city did as well. He doubted that it would take very long to get someone to spill Harry's last name. 

Tom grabbed his cell phone, calling up Bellatrix. He looked around his bed as it rang. He could already picture his mate laying there, breathing softly and sleeping comfortably after a long night of love making. 

"Hello!" Bellatrix chirped.

"Bellatrix," Tom started, "I had a thought."

"About how to get closer to your mate, no doubt," he could hear her smile. 

"Indeed," he grinned, "although I don't know much about him besides his name and his place of employment, I do suspect that his boss would know. Don't you agree?" 

"I see," Bellatrix asked, "do you want me to go and. . . arrange a private meeting with him?" 

Tom spoke, "Of course. This is why you're my right hand woman, you know?" 

"Where to?" 

"The usual spot, if you would," Tom stood up, "be there in two hours. I believe I have some shopping to do."

"Oh boy," Bellatrix muttered, suspecting that he was planning on splurging on a man who didn't even know his name yet. 

He hung up after saying his goodbyes, stretching his back. Tom wandered over to his seat where his sleek, silky housecoat sat. He slid it over his toned muscles, then sat down in front of his laptop. 

He wished he could do some snooping. Dear god, he should have just taken him home. 

Tom chewed on his thumbnail, thinking to himself. He supposed he should go get ready, huh?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low key didn't expect as many people to like this book, especially since it was on a whim. Well, anyways, sorry for not posting for a while. 
> 
> I give you my Valentines Day gift; a fucking update.

Harry shrugged on his backpack, getting ready to head home. His lesson finally ended, letting him go home. Dean stood next to him. 

"How'd it go?" He asked. 

"Pretty normal," he said, "Mr. Binns doesn't really care all too much if I'm doing work for another class."

"Nice," he said. 

Harry's phone buzzed, causing him to look at it. He frowned. His boss was calling? Green eyes looked side to side nervously.

"Something wrong?" 

"It's Nev's and I's boss," he said, "I have to answer this."

"Go ahead," he said, "I'll wait."

Harry answered, placing his phone to his ear, "Hello?" 

"Hey, Harry?" He heard Nancy, a coworker ask, "have you seen the boss? I came in early today, and he isn't here. Nobody's seen him."

Harry frowned, "Really? That's weird. . . ."

"Yeah, really," she said, "anyways, I'll see you tonight I suppose?" 

"Of course," Harry said, "goodbye."

"See ya," she said. 

She hung up, and Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Green eyes peeled open slowly. Something was actually quite odd about this, wasn't it? He didn't quite care for the boss, as he was a touch distant, and tried to convince many of the workers to. . . accept higher paying offers, as he could put it, but he was still his boss. He had been giving him a job for at least a year now, and he let him take as much damn vacation time as he wanted. However, Harry knew just as well as any of the other workers that the man rarely spends more then a few hours away from his club, seeing as he litterly lived there. 

Harry bit his thumb, thinking. 

"Something up?" Dean asked. 

"More or less. . . apparently my boss isn't around at the moment," Harry answered, "it's probably nothing, though."

"Hey, maybe he's got a date?" Dean smiled. 

Harry lit up a little, "Maybe."

Harry and Dean exited the front doors of the college. Dean started to talk about his classes that day, and the conversation about his boss was soon forgotten. Harry didn't take much note of the ordeal. 

They came to Dean's car, which was less beat up than Ron's. However, Harry argued that it didn't make up for the puke green colour of the decade year old van (which reeked of vomit from the few nights they all went partying.)

"Ah fuck," Dean cursed, "I left my fucking phone in the computer lab. I'll be back, okay?" 

"Want me to come with and call it?" Harry offered, eyebrows turning up in concern. 

"Nah," Dean waved him off, already heading through the parking lot, "I know where I left it."

"Okay," Harry opened the door after Dean unlocked it from the parking lot.

He hopped into the passenger seat, pulling out his own phone. He frowned at the cracks in the screen, but didn't overly pay attention to them anymore. He leaned back in his seat, making it recline as he opened up a game to play. 

A shadow passed over his window, causing him to frown and sit up. He looked around, raven coloured hair hanging in his eyes. 

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was going crazy again. Harry laid back down on the seat, turning his attention back to his phone. 

A knock scared him. He shot up. 

Dean frowned at him from the door, "Who was that?" 

"Huh?" He asked. 

"There was this black haired woman just staring at you, she your friend?" Dean asked again. 

"No," Harry looked around the parking lot as Dean sat in the driver's seat, "I. . . didn't even know she was there."

"What?" Dean gave him a concerned look. 

Harry frowned, "I said I didn't even know she was there."

Dean turned his attention to driving, eyes fluttering to the side as he looked for any sign of the woman. Perhaps she just thought she recognized Harry? 

Harry pulled his seat back up. He'd surely watch out for woman with black hair who seemed very interested in staring at Harry, but Harry doubted it was worth worrying about. 

"Let's just get going home, alright?" Harry said, "I've gotta take a damn nap again."

"You've been really tired lately, you alright?" Dean asked as they stopped at a red light. Dean's index finger tapped against the steering wheel rapidly. 

Harry sighed, "I've just been feeling down. Then again it's nothing new."

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, but didn't say anything to Harry. He knew that a few words wouldn't do anything to cheer him up and magically cure his depression.

* * *

"Harry's legal name is Harry Smith. He was adopted by his uncle," Bellatrix started off, "I couldn't find much info on the uncle, though. Not even a name. Can't find out anything on his birth parents either."

Tom looked up at the woman, interested, "That's interesting. Anything else?" 

"Really shitty, but he doesn't have any social media," Bellatrix said, "at least none that we can track."

Tom frowned. His dreams of stalking him on social media were ruined. At least he could still stalk him in real life. 

"He goes to Hogwarts university and college," she said, "he also lives on the North side of the city at 177 Callaway street in apartment 4 - 4. He lives with five other roommates, one girl, and four boys. Do you want their names?" 

A girl? Was he straight? Well, if he was his soulmate, then he couldn't really be straight, but if he was convinced he was straight, then that was not ideal. 

"Depends, is he involved with any of them?" He asked. 

"Seems like no," Bellatrix answered, "Two of his roommates are dating one another. While one isn't too clear, workers say they have a sibling relationship. The other is also dating a woman, and his little sister is only living with them because of an illness."

Tom frowned as Bellatrix sat all of the compiled information on his desk. At least he knew his damn full name now. Where he lived was also a nice bit of information as well. 

Tom smiled lightly. He should send Harry flowers. 

"Do you know what kind of flowers he likes?" He asked, fingers laced together under his chin as red eyes stared at the file. 

"Couldn't find much about his likes," Bellatrix grinned at him, "but perhaps Harry's boss would know?" 

Tom smiled at her, standing up, "If not, then perhaps he could give Harry a call for us?" 

Bellatrix opened the door for Tom. Tom was lost in thought, wondering how Harry would react. Perhaps he should send them to the club he works at, but then again, he wanted Harry to have it. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

"If I send flowers to his house," he said, "then he'll know that he's being watched. However, I don't overly feel like sending it to the club, he may thinks they are from a creep."

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow. 

"A creep who doesn't actually like him," Tom specified. 

"That's more like it," Bellatrix said, "perhaps waiting-"

"I have done my waiting," Tom growled, "Nine years of it. Alone."

"-for him to actually get to know you?" Bellatrix ignored the vampires growling and whatnot, "oh! Ask if he wants a sugar daddy so you can have an excuse to get close to him and spoil him!" 

"You know if I'm his sugar daddy, then he won't overly love me," he said, "it would strictly be a professional relationship."

Bellatrix sighed, "Then we'll try and catch him at a coffee shop or something."

She frowned and looked at Tom, and he got the feeling that she was thinking of something. Her grin started to widen. 

"The dean of Hogwarts does owe us some favours. . . ," her lips turned up. 

Tom grinned. A perfect excuse to get close to Harry's if you asked him. He could pretend to be a student, have classes with Harry, and slowly get to be his friend. 

"Bellatrix, have I ever told you how smart you are?" Tom grinned, eyes red. 

Bellatrix just smiled, "What would you do without me?" 

Tom just rolled his eyes at her. A sudden thought popped into his head. When Harry had a child (Tom hoped that he was born with the ability like most soulmates to have children, but if not, then he'd have to conduct a ritual,) then he would need godparents for them. Bellatrix was loyal to him. Lucius was as well, and had experience in being a parent. 

"Let's go have a chat with that man again," Tom told her, "I'm curious."

* * *

Harry's breathing was harsh. Hands gripped the tattered forest green sheets, making his knuckles go white. The sleeping boys eyebrows knotted together from the nightmare. 

Neville looked at Harry, his tossing and turning awakening the youth. He frowned. 

"Harry?" He croaked out. 

Harry shriveled up, protecting himself. 

"Harry," he said louder, "Harry!" 

"Huh?" Harry sat up slightly, then laid back down, sighing, "what's wrong?" 

"You were having a nightmare," he said. 

"A. . . ," Harry's face went red as his memory passed over his mind, "yeah. . . I was. Um, sorry for waking you."

"It's alright," Neville yawned and laid back down, "I'm going back to sleep."

Harry sighed quietly, turning onto his side and hugging his pillow to his chest. He certainly wasn't having a nightmare, unless you counted having a wet dream one. 

He closed his eyes. 

It was like that night when he had given that man a lap dance for three hours straight, except they weren't in the club and it wasn't just a lap dance. 

Harry had been stripped down, body completely exposed, aside from the ornamental and decerative clothing he was wearing. Red eyes were staring at him, and he had that stupid smirk on his face. Harry was litterly collapsed against him, body sweating and hands trying to hold himself up but failing to do so. 

The room was basically a basement. Harry shivered as he held the pillow closer, thinking of the way that the man's leather gloves had felt against his bare skin. 

He needed to stop. Harry doesn't get sex dreams about clients, no matter how cute and hot looking they are. Harry sighs, sinking into his sheets. 

Perhaps if this happens again, he should black list him. . . having an interest in a client isn't okay with Harry. If he gave him special treatment, then he'd get fired, and he sure as hell wasn't meeting up with the fucker alone. 

He was getting ahead of himself. Harry knew better than anyone that rich men rarely come back unless the club is in a high end town, which it wasn't. Why the man was at a strip club in the dead center between the North side of the city and the East side was beyond him. 

He could imagine arms wrapping around him. Harry decided to just let his brain come up with fictional scenarios and to simply accept that he did want to cuddle with somebody. If not the man, then one with no name and no face, just warm arms. . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Why?_

James sat back in the chair, feet kicking up onto the table. Brown eyes narrowed in on his friends. Sirius sighed, sitting down and shaking his head. Remus just sighed and slowly slid into his husband's arms, frowning. 

Remus didn't want to say it. He knew how upset James would become when anybody even suggested it, but he did truly believe that Harry had died that day in the river. 

How couldn't he have? The footage showed Lily holding him when Peter pushed her in. It was the dead of winter, yet somehow, his friend is still clinging to the idea that just maybe. . . . 

James removed his legs from the table, sitting up. 

"I did however bring other news," Sirius started, "Weasley's. Apparently, Charlie Weasley has started a minor drug gang over in the west side of the city. Thankfully, Riddle decided to check with us before he just dealt with his problem."

"Hmm? Molly and Arthur's son?" He raised an eyebrow, "I thought they left the crime lifestyle after. . . ."

After Lily died. 

"Suppose you'll have to go ask Charlie himself," Remus shrugged from his place on Sirius' shoulder, "I assume you're not just going to kill him."

"No, no," he waved his hand, "Molly was important to Lily and I intend to protect my wife's friends, even if she is not. . . with us, anymore."

"Great, when are we leaving?" The werewolf asked. 

James smiled lightly, standing, "Well, we wouldn't want to inconvenience Riddle any longer, would we?" 

"Oh please," Sirius smiled, "you're just as bored as we are."

James rolled his eyes, starting towards the archway which lead from the dining room to the hallway. Remus removed his head from Sirius when he started to follow his brother in everything but blood. Sirius propped his leg onto the seat, tying his boot. James leaned against the archway. 

"Right," Sirius took his door off of the seat. Remus rolled his eyes, following his soulmate towards their friend, "um, how are we going to find this kid?" 

"You didn't get the location, did you?" James laughed, fangs glinting. The human simply shook his head, turning around. 

Sirius crossed his arms, face red and a pout on his lips. Remus couldn't help it as his arms closed around the shorter, pissed off man. 

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to go looking," James smiled. 

* * *

Harry sipped on his coffee as he stared at the screen of his beat up laptop. He sighed when he saw that it was draining battery quicker than it was charging, and elected to just turn the damn thing off. The wifi was super slow here anyways. 

At least it has wifi, he sourly thought. 

He sat back in the booth. The smell of cigarettes and the slightest bit of weed filled the coffee shop, and it certainly wasn't coming from the costumers. 

Harry looked up just in time to see someone enter the shop. His expression slowly melted away into a slight frown. 

The man's eyes found him, and he smiled. Harry flushed, mostly from embarrassment of running into a client in public, but also slightly from the man's Marianas trench deep dimples. Suave brown hair moved only slightly as he started to make his way towards Harry. 

"Hello again," he addressed.

Harry smiled sheepishly. Okay, just act calm. Harry wanted to fumble over his words and ask him to leave him alone, but this was a rich man. He could be a client again, and he'd be damned if he could make it easier on the people he called family. 

His dream from yesterday flashed over his eyes. 

"Hi," he smiled. 

The man observed him for a few seconds, his eyes scanned him as if Harry was an interesting and abstract piece of art at a museum that he wanted to buy. His red eyes trailed over to his neck, then down his collar bone all the way to his knees which Harry had pushed together from nerves. 

Delicious, Tom thought to himself as he stared at his soulmate. 

"I don't think we ever properly introduced each other," he leant out his hand to him and displayed a soft smile, "my name is Tom, Tom Riddle." 

Harry's expression turned to horror, "You. . . Tom Riddle?" 

Tom figured that wasn't all too good. Did Harry somehow know that he was a gang leader, or did he just recognize him from the news and businesses?

Tom decided to smirk, "The one and only."

Harry frowned, "You own like thirty businesses, why are you doing in the dead end of town in a run down coffee shop?" 

Ah, the latter, thankfully.

Tom grinned, "I'll tell you if I can take a seat."

Harry gapped at him, "Uh-"

"I'll talk that as a yes, love," he sat down and crossed his legs. 

Harry gripped his cup awkwardly, internally wincing from awkwardness. 

"I like the people here," he smiled as he stared at Harry. 

Harry smiled at him, "I doubt that."

"Why else would I be here?" Tom tilted his head. 

Harry blinked at him a couple of times. Why would he be here? What reason would he have? 

Toms slim fingers rested on his laptop as he looked at it, frowning. The stickers were peeling off that he had stuck on there a few years ago. Tom could tell that the cord was bent awkwardly and could barely charge. 

His eyes returned to Harry who was watching him with confusion. 

"How old is this computer, if you don't mind my asking," he requested to know. 

Harry looked down at it, mumbling out a reply.

"Hmm?" Tom leaned closer in. 

"It's seven years old," he replied quietly. 

Tom furrowed his eyebrows. He watched the way that Harry shifted under his gaze. 

Ah. 

Tom started to think. This could come to his advantage; a poor boy who is an. . . erotic dancer. 

"Are you tight on money?" Tom tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. 

Harry replied, getting mildly defensive, "Why do you want to know?" 

"Because I am a good person," Tom lied, "I want to help."

"Help? I'm not a charity case," Harry glared at him. 

Tom internally took a step back. Okay, so Harry was prideful. He chose his words carefully and quickly. 

"I'm sure you'd be fine without the help, but you're young, aren't you?" he tilted his head, "no mere child should have to struggle to replace a laptop."

Harry leveled his gaze with Toms. He didn't like the way that he spoke to him, and insinuated that he was-

Well, Harry is poor, but it wasn't as if he desperately needed help. 

And he wasn't a child, he wasn't even a teenager anymore. He was going to college and didn't live with that rat of an uncle anymore-

Tom had to stop his expression from showing his shock at the jaded emerald eyes that bore into his soul with anger. 

"With all due respect, Mr. Riddle," he said evenly, "you are showing me none. I have a job."

"I am aware," he said, "I just thought-"

"I won't take any money for free," Harry cut him off, "who said I was poor, anyways?" 

"Who said I would give you money for free?" Tom raised an eyebrow. 

Harry raised one back. 

"I could offer you a pretty easy going job for a good salary," he said, "flexible work hours. Easy work. High pay. Are you interested?" 

Harry frowned, "Why?" 

Tom stared into his eyes, "Because I am generous, and you are interesting."

A lie and an understatement. Harry smiled at him, thinking. It was a highly appealing offer, but Harry was not foolish enough. They used to have a younger girl, Ally, working with them. She was fresh out of highschool and was absolutely flattered to have the attention of a rich man. 

Things didn't go well when her private meeting with him ended up being a kidnapping. She was human trafficked, they think, but they wouldn't know. She hadn't been found, and frankly, it sends shivers down his spine thinking about it. 

"Sir, you don't even know me," he said, "and besides; I make plenty of money by myself."

Tom found his fist clenching. Plenty of money, huh? When he's handing over his body, he is.

Tom had to force himself to calm down. 

"Being a hooker isn't a stable job," he said evenly. 

He was starting to sound like his uncle. Get a better job, he had said. With what qualifications? He could barely get his ass out of bed, and his sleep schedule was fucked to a T. 

This mother fucker-

Harry glared at him, "Firstly, fuck you. Secondly, I'm not a hooker, thirdly, I don't want you're stupid job offer, and lastly; this conversation is over. Bye."

"But-"

"Bye, you're black listed now, by the way," he glared at him, "so don't try to get my services again, you swine."

So, he thought sourly as he stared at Harry's neck, he wants to fight? Then he'd bring him a war. 

"I was going to be nice," he stood up, adjusting his tie, "but it seems you've made this difficult. I'd watch myself if I were you, Harry Smith."

Harry's hearts presence suddenly made itself aware when it's beating put an obnoxious amount of pressure in his chest. 

"How. . . how'd you know my last name?" He asked timidly.

Tom narrowed his eyes as his handsome grin revealed his fangs. Harry was nearly paralyzed in the gaze of the man.

"I have my ways, angel," he turned around, and Harry watched his back as he left the store. 

Harrys spit was sour and zingy in his mouth. What the hell? Harry had to repress a shiver as he grabbed his phone. 

Shaky fingers texted Ron. 

'Can you pick me up early?'

* * *

Toms expression was blank as he stared down at Harry's boss. His eyes were covered in a bloody, ugly white cloth which was frayed around the edges.

He didn't know that Tom was there. 

Tom clenched his teeth, "Listen up."

He flinched, "Hello? Whose there!"

"You've been helpful, but it's about time that we get rid of you," Tom said quietly. 

Harry's boss looked around frantically, "What?"

"So let's make a deal," he bent down towards him, slim fingers pulling his blindfold down, "we'll let you go, if you do something for us."

"Huh?" 

Tom wanted to smack the pot bellied man for interrupting him and being slow. In due time, he supposed, but he couldn't get sloppy. 

"I want your business," he said, "I'll pay you double for what it's worth."

"And you'll let me live?" 

"Of course, as long as you don't try to go running to the police," he gripped his jaw in a bruise worthy grip, "and trust me, we will know."

"Is this about Harry-"

He smiled slowly as his grip increased, fingers digging deeper into his skin and drawing blood with his sharp vampiric nails. 

"Of course it is," he said with a level voice, eyes wide, "he's very important to me and the fact that you're letting him spread his legs like that for other men bothers me. Since he refuses to quit, I've decided to control who he can do that for."

The man decided to say nothing, "I'll give you the damn business, okay? Just. . . don't hurt anyone there, I beg of you."

"No worries," he said, "the only person I'm interested in is Harry."

The man went silent for a few seconds. Tom knew that he wanted to ask why, but Tom didn't care to explain things to this human who didn't even know magic. 

Tom turned around, walking away. Lucius stood at the door.

"Get it ready, I have some flowers to send," he said. 

Perhaps he could scare Harry by sending him wilted flowers, huh? No, he thought to himself. Just because Harry was disobedient and bratty, didn't mean that he wanted him scared of him. 

A terrifying thought gripped his heart, and Tom hated it the second he thought about it. 

What if. . . what if Harry was his unrequited soulmate?


	5. Chapter 5

Harry frowned at his boss as he packed up his photos and magazines. Neville stood behind him, eyebrow raised. 

"Um, so where are you going?" Harry asked hesitantly. 

"Florida," he said simply. 

"In America?" He frowned, "so you're not coming back?" 

"Gods no," he said. He slid his duffel bag over his shoulder as he zipped it up. 

"Who'd you sell the business to?" Harry pestered the man. He shot Harry a glare, which silenced him. 

He brushed past him, not saying a word. Harry turned to Neville as they stood in a now empty office, devoid of any owner. 

"He just. . . handed it over to someone?" Neville asked, confused. Harry looked around with a frown. 

He felt a knot in his stomach. He thought back to yesterday when he had run into that man, Tom Riddle, and he had warned him against denying his job offer. 

He supposed this week was just a bad one. Well, it had started off good with the large sum he had gotten for a lap dance, yet now he was most likely being stalked by the most eligible (and frankly, politically powerful) man in all of England. 

"Shit, new boss is already here," Neville was looking outside of the door, he hesitantly looked towards Harry, "oh, he's hot."

"Really?" Harry tried to get a peek, curious if what he said was true. 

Harry's heart beat rapidly in his chest when he saw Tom Riddle shaking the hand of their ex-boss. Toms red eyes met with his fear filled ones, and Harry felt like a cornered animal about to either freeze up or attack. 

He slowly backed back into the office, looking slightly pale. 

"It's that guy that got us all on stage," Neville remembered. 

"That's the guy who knew my name," he said, pulling Neville back into the office, legs shaking. 

Neville a expression fell, "Like the guy you think is stalking you?" 

Harry shakily nodded, "I. . . I. . . ."

Harry wanted to say that he needed to quit, but he knew better than that. He needed to give him a two weeks notice, and he needed to find a job in that time that was making just as much as he was here. 

"Maybe it's just a coincidence?" 

"I hope so," he replied.

Harry looked up when a shadow covered him. His eyes were filled with worry when he saw that Tom Riddle was standing there, watching him with his usual emotionless (or cocky, he had found) expression.

"Hello," he addressed Neville, "you must be one of the workers."

"I am," Neville tried to not let in what Harry had just told him, "let's go, Harry, I'm sure he wants to set up his offi-"

"Actually, I'd like to ask Harry a few questions," he cut him off. Harry glared at him. Ah, he'd have difficulty trying to get him to love him.

"Then go ahead," he said, challenging him. 

Suddenly, Toms expression softened. Tom didn't like trying to manipulate his own lover like this, but he wasn't one to negate playing dirty on useless gentlemen rules. 

"I actually wanted to apologize for yesterday," he feigned an awkward pose, "I stepped out of line, and I realize that I probably scared you a little. Truth be told, I have been thinking about buying this establishment for a while."

Harry raised an eyebrow, Tom smiled at him, dimples sinking. Harry let his face soften. Tom had to hold back a monstrous grin as he felt victory settle into his spine, sending lightning through it.

Yes. . . think I am a good person. . . . 

_Please. . . love me. . . ._

"I went overboard with my research, and you came up," he said, "I wanted to know if I'd be needing to find a new roster of employees, honestly."

"Wow," Harry's expression contorted to rage, "that's a load of bullshit." 

Tom, for once in his life, was actually shocked. Harry stood up, legs clearly shaking. He clicked on over in his black heels.

"I beg your pardon?" Tom tried to salvage it. He really didn't want to force Harry, of course, he'd eventually understand that Tom is a vampire, and they need their mates, but that would take time.

Unless he was his unrequited soulmate, but Tom was refusing to think about that for now. 

"Keep this relationship professional, and I swear on my dead mother's name-" dead mother? -"that I will fucking call the police if you don't knock this shit off, okay? And you know what? Maybe it is a coincidence, and maybe I am just assuming things! But fuck it!" 

Tom sighed. Fine. Let's play dirty. . . . 

"You're not assuming things," Tom said evenly, "you're very smart, aren't you? I suppose that's how you got into higher education at Hogwarts university."

Harry glared at him. 

"You know. . . I know the headmaster there," he grinned, "and I know all of the chairmen for this city. It would be a shame if you and your friend got kicked out. . . I've heard that it's hard to get back into a university of you've already been booted from one. . . ."

Harry's expression turned to horror, "What?" 

"Mm," he hummed as he descended down on Harry. He smiled as he cupped his cheek, sending pleasing sparks up his wrist, "perhaps that girl you live with will have a better chance at school too. . . ah, I do wonder how my friend on the educational council is doing? I do know a lot of people in this town."

Harry closed his mouth. Was he. . . threatening him? Harry couldn't stop the chattering of his bones as he stood there, filled with fear. Neville looked between the two, eyes also wide with horror. 

"Please don't," Harry whispered. 

"Then be good," his hand slid down, landing at his side, "now run along, love."

He could smell the distress coming off of Harry in tantalizing clouds. He couldn't tell if he liked it or not; all vampires loved it when people were sacred of them. Their blood tasted much sweeter that way, but whether they liked their soulmates like that or not was different. Tom hadn't quite decided if he liked Harry being scared of him. 

He sure liked it when he listened to him, though. . . . 

He met eyes with Harry's green ones. Tom will admit, he did feel a _minuscule_ amount of regret when his eyes caught the shiny tears building up in beautiful emerald eyes. 

But only a little.

Harry pushed past him, legs barely working as he scampered out of the office. Tom smirked widely. Harry and his friend left, closing the door behind them. Well, even someone as prideful and head strong as Harry had their limits. They all swallowed eventually. . . .

Tom went red in the face, covering his mouth as his mind went into the gutter.

* * *

Harry hadn't calmed down. Fear kept gripping him and stopping him from leaving his comfortable bathroom stall. Neville knocked softly on the door again. 

"Harry, come on," he said, "come out of there. Let's just go home."

_Then be a good boy._

Harry just let his neck give back out, eyes red and blotchy from his stressful crying. Neville sighed from the other side of the door, looking back at Tom Riddles office which was in view of the one stall bathroom. 

Harry curled into himself further. 

What choices does he have? He could just hope that Tom Riddle was bluffing about the police and knowing the headmaster, but it was highly unlikely that he didn't. Even if he didn't, why would he even try and risk it? 

He raised his head, eyes red and dry from his crying. 

He really did it this time, huh? Just like always. 

He sighed, slumping further into the wall. Neville knocked gently again. Harry decided to just get the fuck up. No matter how comfortable his little, pathetic and smelly spot on the bathroom floor was, he needed to take the cards he's been dealt. 

He creaked open the door. Neville invaded his personal space and hugged him, squeezing him and jabbing his corset into his shoulder blades. 

He didn't say anything when Neville pulled away. Music from the club was muffled. 

"So what now?" He asked. 

Harry glanced at the door where Tom was smiling lightly and speaking to some of the girls.

"I don't know," he replied. 

Tom smirked when his eyes landed on him. Harry couldn't decide between shrinking back or glaring at him, so he just looked away. 

"Come on," he muttered, "lets just get this over with so we can go home."

Neville nodded, "Yeah."

Alcohol hit Harry in the face as he opened the door to the club. The music which he had mainly blocked out came full force, tumbling through his ears. 

A hand slid around Harry's wrist as he walked past the bar. 

"Heyyy," a woman slurred.

"Hey," Harry smiled, turning his attention towards her.

* * *

Tom watched Harry with interest as he smiled and talked to a woman. He would admit, jealously was bubbling inside of him. He didn't blame her, though, it wasn't like she knew that Harry was his. And besides, just look at the boy. He's cute. 

Tom saw Harry lean in. 

He felt stupid for forgetting about the existence of bisexual and pansexual men.

Harrys head turned towards him, and he quickly looked away from the pair. He sipped his drink, wishing he had a nice glass of blood to drink out of. 

Just as long as it wasn't chunky, he rather hated it when his blood felt veiny. 

He bet that Harry's blood was smooth. . . .

He shook his head lightly. Where was all of his self control going? He needed to stop thinking about Harry and focus on his work. 

Clearly, he just needed Harry so he could focus on his work and get rid of this strip club. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He internally groaned as he recognized the fragrance of cheep perfume and the specifically manicured point of a nail. Tom turned around to see Rita Skeeter, the woman smiled. 

Damn fae. . . .


End file.
